Confession
by IZZY-CHAN13
Summary: Bradley Uppercrust x Beret Girl. According to the account of his usually cryptic mind, Mr. Uppercrust is finding himself more vulnerable in his current obsession than he can handle. This vignette, or flash fiction, takes place after the events of the original "Miss Mochaccino" fanfiction. How long it has been since then is uncertain.


Oh, no. Can't get enough of her. So deep…

Deep in-side. Out.

Looking up and away my scarlet letter. I hold her hand in mine. I know she's not mine.

Never, mine.

I bite my lip when a dewdrop glistens. Never smiling, holding on to me just the same. I hear a whisper and the timid shriek. I wince in pain, the tearing of my shoulders—I've never found it so pleasurable.

And I'm sane, "Victoria..!"

The same impulse is dragged down in a caged part of me. The urge to crash down the walls of my being that would destroy our silence forever. It can't be done. Not now. Thundering in my chest.

Letting go from yet another gnaw at her trembling mouth, I merely clothe her with my arms and ask, "Are you cold?" Bringing the silk up and over us. Not waiting for the slow response, a tiny nod. I turn on my side.

She's a _child_, just like me. How could I not realize this when I first laid eyes on her? So timid it's wonderful… Beautiful. Only with me and no one else! A bitter taste sinks on my tongue preventing my speech and it makes waves into my train of thought; I wish she wasn't so observant.

"Bradley, you're angry." Never _mine_.

"I'm not. Just. Thinking about.. the future." Feeling through her smooth locks, almost tempted to take a hairbrush to it for my past's sake. Hesitant suddenly, "I—Are _you_ angry?" She'll lie, I know she will.

"No."

"Happy, then?" No answer. Just a sigh and curling of her body, peering down nowhere.

She's not an object, not some prize to be won. This thing has feelings that I can barely express verbally. This thing is living, breathing, crying. Rational thought that goes out the window when I'm around. Gives up security and dignity to please me because I made it clear; I want her. Can't let it go.

I can't shed a fuckin' tear.

Mumbling, "here."

Stretching across our mattress, I open up a drawer on the nightstand, "I got these for you. Since you smoke." I sense a bit of a frown on her reddened face, "Let me get you the lighter."

A rush of cold, standing bare, shifting through items in my trusty decorative box. I found my lighter, tossed it over. Now I want my own laced plant, "You've never tried 'weed' before huh?"

I swear I hear a petite laugh before a cough, "No."

Talk normal with me, Vicki. The transparent snakes leave their trail. Please talk normal to me.

Staring into nothing and sitting up against the backboard. Her skin exposed—I can't help but plant a kiss on her tense shoulder. So cold!

"You hate me."

She never even bothered to confirm, kept on breathing it in and out. Those eyes are so empty, so gray…

This is how it is, with barely any communication going on between us than what our bodies pretend to say. Out of quiet desperation I take out the joint from my mouth and just rest my head in her lap, "You hate me, don't you?" Holding her knee covered in red.

I didn't mind the falling ashes, but I didn't expect delicate fingers in my hair at all. Sooner or later she should be pulling at it—some part of me knows I deserve it. I tore her away from all what was innocent and good just to make her another victim of my wretched personal issues. Succeeded in infuriating me to the point where I—

"I don't know if I hate you."

Awash with guilt, I chew again at my lip. Then again I'm relieved that I'm not condemned, for now. I just realize how hot I'm getting when the woman's palm touches my cheek. Again I shudder before getting another draft of marijuana trying to distract myself.

There's so much going on within me now that has nothing to do with our having sex. I'd tell her _everything_ in such a vulnerable position as this, but I can't. I'm a coward.

The child in me begins to weep, and yet I remain stone-faced. I'm pathetic.

Emotions threatening to burst, I have to get back up. I have to put out both torches and toss them aside. I have to pull her forward and pin her down again to restart the rendezvous in renewed strength.

Her fear calms me; I'm back in control, "Victoria!"

You cannot break me. No one can.  
No one ever will.


End file.
